Tony sprung forward and seized the would-be murderer
Tony sprung forward and seized the would-be murderer by the arm.(See page182)
Presently Tony came into the yard. He was looking very sober. He had lost the horse, and he didn't know how to excuse himself. He didn't feel that he had been to blame, but he suspected that he should be blamed nevertheless.
"What did you do with the horse, Tony?" asked James.
"He was stolen from me," answered Tony.
"How could that be?"
"I expect it was the Quaker."
"The Quaker!" repeated James, in amazement. "Are you sure you're not crazy—or drunk?"
"Neither one," said Tony. "It's a long story and——"
"You must tell it to Mr. Porter then. He wants to see you right off. But I'll tell you for your information that the horse is here."
"Is here? Who brought it?"
"Sam Payson brought it a short time since."
"Sam Payson! Where did he say he found it?"
"In the woods."
"Then he might have left it there," said Tony, indignantly. "What business had he to untie it, and give me all this trouble?"
"You can speak to Mr. Porter about that."
"Where is he?"
"In the office."
Tony entered the office.
Mr. Porter regarded him with a frown.
"How is this, Tony?" he began. "You leave my horse in the woods to be brought home by another boy. He might have been stolen, do you know that?"
"I've been deceived, and led into a trap," said Tony.
"What on earth do you mean? Who has deceived and trapped you?"
"The Quaker who was stopping here. Has he come back?"
"He has settled his bill and left the hotel. What cock-and-bull story is this you have hatched up?"
"It is a true story, Mr. Porter. This man was not a Quaker at all. He was a tramp."
"Take care what you say, Tony. Do you take me for a fool?"
"He is a man I used to know. When I was coming home he was waiting for me in the woods, only I didn't know who he really was. He told me there was a man who had fallen into a well in the woods, and he wanted my help to get him out. So I tied the horse and went with him. I wouldn't have left him but for the story of the man in the well."
"Go on," said the landlord. "I warn you I don't believe a word of this wonderful story of yours."
"I can't help it," said Tony, desperately. "It's true."
"Go on, and I'll give you my opinion of it afterward."
"Just before we got to the well a branch took off his hat and wig, and I saw that he was no Quaker, but my enemy, Rudolph Rugg."
"Rudolph Rugg! A very good name for a romance."
Tony proceeded:
"Then I tried to get away, but it was too late. The man seized me and threw me down the well. But first he told me that he knew who I was, and that I was heir to a large fortune."
"Indeed! How happens it that you are not at the bottom of the well still?"
"I got out."
"So I see; but how?"
"I climbed up by the stones till I reached the rope, and then I found it easy. I hurried to where I had left the horse, but it was gone. I supposed that the Quaker had taken it, but James tells me Sam Payson found it and brought it back."
"Look here, boy," said the landlord, sternly, "do you expect me to believe this romance of yours?"
"I don't know whether you will or not, sir. All I can say is that it is the exact truth."
"I cannot keep you in my employ any longer. I have been deceived by you, and should no longer trust you. You certainly have mistaken your vocation. You are not fit to be a stable boy."
"I should like to know what I am fit for," said Tony, despondently.
"I will tell you, then. Judging from the story you have told me, I should think you might succeed very well in writing a romance. I don't know whether it pays, but you can try it."
"Some time you will find out that I have told the truth," said Tony.
"Perhaps so, but I doubt it."
"When do you want me to go?"
"You can stay till to-morrow morning. Wait a minute. Here is a five-dollar bill. That is a fair price for the time you have been with me."
As Tony was going out he came near having a collision with Sam Payson.
Sam looked at him inquiringly.
"Have you been discharged?" he asked.
"Yes," said Tony. "It was your fault. What made you take that horse?"
"I was afraid Mr. Porter might lose it. Is he in?"
"Yes. You can apply for my place, if you want to."
"I mean to."
Sam went in, and addressed the landlord.
"I brought your horse back," he said.
"Thank you. Here's two dollars for your trouble."
Sam tucked it away with an air of satisfaction.
"Tony tells me he is going away."
"Yes. He don't suit me."
"Wouldn't I suit you?" asked Sam, in an ingratiating tone.
"No; I've tried you, and you won't suit," was the unexpected reply.
"But I brought back the horse," pleaded Sam, crest-fallen.
"I've paid you for that," said the landlord. "Didn't I pay you enough?"
"Yes, sir; but I thought you'd take me back again."
"I know you too well, Sam Payson, to try any such experiment. The Widow Clark told me yesterday that she wanted to get her boy into a place, and I am going to offer it to him."
"He don't know anything about horses," said Sam.
"He will soon learn. He is a good boy, and industrious. I am sure he will suit me better than you."
"I wish I hadn't brought back his old horse," muttered Sam, as he left the office and went back into the yard. He hoped to triumph over Tony by telling him that he had taken his place, but the opportunity was not allowed him.
"Well, Sam, are you going to take my place?" asked Tony.
"No, I'm not," said Sam.
"Didn't you ask for it?"
"The old man had promised it to another boy," said Sam, sourly.
"He's been pretty quick about it, then," said James.
"A boy that don't know the first thing about horses," grumbled Sam.
"Who is it?"
"Joe Clark."
"He's a good boy; I'm glad he's coming, though I'm sorry to lose Tony."
"Thank you, James," said Tony. "I'd like to stay, but I can't blame Mr. Porter for not believing my story. It was a strange one, but it's true for all that."
James shrugged his shoulders.
"Then you believe you're heir to a fortune, as he told you?"
"Yes; he had no reason to tell me a lie."
"What's that?" asked Sam.
"The Quaker gentleman who was here told Tony that he was heir to a large fortune."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Sam, boisterously. "That's a likely story, that is."
"Why isn't it?" asked Tony, frowning.
"You heir to a fortune—a clodhopper like you! Oh! I shall split!" said Sam, giving way to another burst of merriment.
"I am no more a clodhopper than you are," said Tony, "and I advise you not to laugh too much, or I may make you laugh on the other side of your mouth."
"It'll take more than you to do it," said Sam, defiantly.
"I have done it already, Sam Payson, and I'm ready to try it again before I leave town."
"I wouldn't dirty my hands with you," said Sam, scornfully.
"You'd better not."
When Sam had gone, Tony turned to James.
"I wonder whether I shall ever see you again, James?" he said, thoughtfully.
"I hope so, Tony. I'm sorry you're going; but you couldn't expect Mr. Porter to believe such a story as that."
"Then you don't believe it, James? I'll come back some day just to prove to you that it is true."
"Come back at any rate; I shall be glad to see you. When do you go?"
"To-morrow morning."
"Where shall you go first?"
"To New York; but I'll help you till I go."
So Tony did his work as usual for the remainder of the day. He felt rather sober. Just as he had found a home his evil genius, in the character of Rudolph, appeared and deprived him of it.
Though Tony was out of a place he was considerably better off than he had generally been. He had five dollars in his pocket for the first time in his life. A few weeks ago he would have considered himself rich with this amount, and would have been in high spirits. But now he took a different view of life. He had known what it was to have a settled home, and to earn an honest living, and he had learned to like it. But fortune was against him, and he must go.
"Good-by, James," he said, soberly, to the hostler the next morning.
"Good-by, Tony, and good luck," said the kind-hearted hostler.
"I hope I shall have good luck, but I don't expect it," said Tony.
"Pooh, nonsense! You're young, and the world is before you."
"That's so, James, but so far the world has been against me."
"Come here a minute, Tony," said James, lowering his voice.
As Tony approached, he thrust a bank-note hastily into his hand.
"Take it," he said, quickly. "I don't need it, and you may."
Tony looked at the bill, and found it was a ten-dollar note.
"You're very kind, James," he said, touched by a kindness to which he was unaccustomed, "but I can't take it."
"Why not? I shan't need it."
"Nor I, James. I've got some money. It isn't much, but I'm used to roughing it. I've done it all my life. I always come down on my feet like a cat."
"But you may get hard up."
"If I do, I'll let you know."
"Will you promise that?"
"Honor bright."
So James took back the money reluctantly, and Tony bade him good-by.
It was a rainy day when Tony arrived in New York. The stores were deserted, and the clerks lounged idly behind the counter. Only those who were actually obliged to be out appeared in the streets. If Tony's hopes had been high they would have been lowered by the dreary weather. He wandered aimlessly about the streets, having no care about his luggage for he had brought none, looking about him listlessly. He found himself after a while in the lower part of Broadway, not far from the Battery. It is here, as my city readers know, the most of the European steamer lines have their offices.
At once Tony saw a figure that attracted his eager attention.
It was Rudolph Rugg, his old comrade, and now bitter enemy.
"Where is he going?" thought Tony.
This question was soon solved.
Rudolph entered the office of the Anchor Line of steamers.
"What can he want there?" thought Tony. "I'll watch him."
He took a position near by, yet far enough off to avoid discovery, and waited patiently for Rudolph to reappear. He waited about fifteen minutes. Then he saw the tramp come out with a paper in his hand, which he appeared to regard with satisfaction. He turned and went up Broadway.
As soon as he thought it safe Tony crossed the street and entered the office. He made his way up to the counter and inquired the price of passage. The rates were given him.
"Can you tell me," he asked, carelessly, "if a Mr. Rugg is going across on one of your steamers?"
"Mr. Rugg? Why, it is the man who just left the office."
"Did he buy a passage ticket?"
"Yes."
"When does he sail?"
"On Saturday."
"And where does he go?"
"To Liverpool, of course. Can I sell you a ticket?"
"I haven't decided," said Tony.
"If you go, you will find it to your advantage to go by our line."
"I'll go by your line, if I go at all," said Tony. "I wonder whether he'd be so polite if he knew I had but three dollars and a quarter in my pocket?" said our hero to himself.
Then he began to wonder how it happened that Rudolph was going. First, it was a mystery where he could have obtained the money necessary for the purchase of a ticket. Next, what could be his reason for leaving America.
"Probably he has picked somebody's pocket," thought Tony.
That disposed of the difficulty, but, as we know, Tony was mistaken. It was money that he had received for a worse deed, but Tony never thought of connecting the state of Rudolph's purse with the attempt that had been made upon his own life.
When Tony came to think of it he felt glad that Rudolph was going abroad. He felt that his own life would be safer with an ocean flowing between him and the man who latterly had exhibited such an intense hatred for him. As to his motive, why perhaps he thought that he would be safer in London than in New York.
Tony bethought himself of securing a temporary home. He was not a stranger in New York, and knew exactly where to go. There was a house not far from Greenwich street, where he had lodged more than once before, and where he was known. It was far from a fashionable place, but the charge was small, and that was a necessary consideration with Tony.
He rang the bell, and the proprietor, a hard-favored woman of fifty, came to open it.
"How do you do, Mrs. Blodgett?" said Tony.
"Why, it's Tony," said the woman, not unkindly. "Where have you been this long time?"
"In the country," answered our hero.
"And where is your father?"
"Do you mean the man I used to be with?"
"Yes. He was your father, wasn't he?"
"No. He was no relation of mine," said Tony, hastily. "We used to go together, that is all."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know exactly. We had a falling out, and we've parted."
"Well, Tony, what can I do for you?"
"Have you got any cheap room to let, Mrs. Blodgett?"
"I've got a room in the attic. It's small, but if it'll suit you, you can have it for a dollar a week."
"It's just the thing," said Tony, in a tone of satisfaction. "Can I go right up?"
"Yes, if you want to. I generally want a week's pay in advance, but you've been here before——"
"No matter for that. Here's the money," said Tony.
"I'll show you the way up."
"All right. I guess I'll lie down awhile. I've been about the streets all day, and am pretty tired."
The room was quite small, and the furniture was shabby and well-worn; but Tony was not particular. He threw himself on the bed, and soon fell asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but when he woke up the room was quite dark. He stretched, and did not immediately remember where he was; but it flashed upon him directly.
"I wonder what time it is?" he asked himself. "I must have slept a long time. I feel as fresh as a lark. I'll get up a take and tramp."
When he went down stairs he found that it was already ten o'clock.
"I feel as fresh as if it were morning," thought Tony. "I'll go out on Broadway and watch some of the theatres when the people come out."
Ten o'clock seems late in the country; it is the usual hour for retiring for many families; but in the city it is quite different. There are still many to be seen in the streets, and for many it is the commencement of a season of festivity.
Tony walked for half an hour. He was so thoroughly rested that he felt no fatigue. Presently he stepped into a crowded billiard-room, and seating himself, began to watch a game between a young man of twenty-five and a man probably fifteen years his senior. The first was evidently a gentleman by birth and education; his dress and manners evinced this. The other looked like an adventurer, though he was well-dressed.
"Come, let us play for drinks," said the elder.
"I've drank enough," said the young man.
"Nonsense. You can stand a little more."
"Just as you say."
The game terminated in favor of the elder, and the drinks were brought.
This went on for some time. The young man was evidently affected. Finally he threw down his cue, and said;
"I won't play again."
"Why not?"
"My hand is unsteady. I have drank too much."
"I've drank as much as you, but I am all right."
"You can stand more than I. I'll settle for the drinks and games and go home."
"Shan't I see you home?" asked the elder.
"I don't want to trouble you."
"No trouble at all."
The young man paid at the bar, displaying a well-filled pocketbook. There was something in his companion's expression which made Tony suspicious. He formed a sudden resolve.
"I'll follow them," he said, and when they left the room he was close behind them.
The young man leaned on the arm of his companion. He was affected by the potations in which he had indulged, and was sensible of his condition.
"I ought not to have drank so much," he said, in unsteady accents.
"Pooh! it's nothing," said the other, lightly. "Where are you stopping?"
"St. Nicholas."
"We'd better walk; it will do you good to walk."
"Just as you say."
"Of course, I would only advise you for your good."
"I know it; but old fellow, why did you make me drink so much?"
"I thought you could stand it better. I'm as cool as a cucumber."
He pressed the young man's arm, and led him into a side street.
"What's that for? This ain't the way to St. Nicholas."
"I know it."
"Why don't you go up Broadway?"
"You are not fit to go in yet. You need a longer walk, so that your condition will not be noticed when you go in."
"Go along old fellow; you're right."
Still Tony kept behind. All seemed right enough, but somehow he could not help feeling suspicious of the older man.
"I'll watch him," he thought, "and if he attempts any mischief I'll interfere."
The two men walked in a westerly direction, crossing several streets.
"Look here," said the young man, "we'd better turn back."
Now was the time.
The other looked swiftly around, but did not notice Tony, who was tracking him in the darkness.
"Give me your watch and money at once, or I'll blow your brains out."
"Look here, you're only trying to play a joke on me."
"You're mistaken. I'm a desperate man. I will do as I say."
"Then you're a villain," said the young man, with spirit. "You've made me drunk in order to rob me."
"Precisely. Your money or your life. That's about what I mean."
"I'll call the police."
"If you do it will be your last word. Now make up your mind."
The young man, instead of complying, endeavored to break away, but in his intoxication he had lost half his strength, and was no match for the other.
"You fool! your blood be on your own hands!" said his companion, and he drew a pistol from his side pocket.
An instant and he would have fired, but Tony was on the alert. He sprang forward, seized the would-be murderer by the arm, and the pistol went off, but the bullet struck a brick wall on the opposite side of the street.
"Police!" shouted Tony, at the top of his lungs.
"Confusion!" exclaimed the villain. "I must be getting out of this."
He turned to fly, but Tony seized him by the coat, and he struggled fiercely, but in vain.
"Let go, you young scoundrel!" he shouted, "or I'll shoot you."
"With an unloaded pistol?" asked Tony. "That don't scare much."
A quick step was heard, and a policeman turned the corner.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I charge this man with an attempt at murder," said Tony.
"The boy is right," said the young man.
"They are both lying," said the adventurer, furiously. "It's a plot against me."
"I know you, Bill Jones," said the policeman, after a careful scrutiny of the man's features. "You're a hard ticket. Come along with me. You two must go with me to prefer your charge."
"Let me have your arm, my boy," said the young man; "I'm ashamed to own that I needyour help. It is the last time I will allow liquor to get the better of me."
"I guess you're about right there," said Tony. "You've had a narrow escape."
"I owe my life to you," said the young man, warmly. "How did you happen to come up just in the nick of time?"
"I suspected the man meant you no good. I followed you from the billiard saloon, where I saw you playing."
"You were sharper than I. I never suspected harm. You have done me the greatest possible service."
"Curse the young brat!" muttered the man in custody. "I'd like a good chance to wring your neck."
"I've no doubt of it," said Tony. "I'll keep out of your way."
The station house was not far off. The party entered. The charge was formally made, and Tony and the young man went out.
"Won't your father and mother feel anxious about your being out so late?" asked George Spencer, for this was the young man's name.
"I don't think they will," answered Tony. "I haven't got any for that matter."
"Who do you live with then?"
"I take care of myself."
"Have you no one belonging to you?"
"Not one."
"Are you poor?" asked Spencer, for the first time taking notice of Tony's rather shabby apparel.
"Oh, no," said our hero. "I've got a little over two dollars in my pocket."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, and it's a good deal more than I generally have."
"You don't say so. How do you make your living?"
"Any way I can. Any way that's honest."
"And don't you ever get discouraged—down in the mouth?"
"Not often," answered Tony. "I've always got along, and I guess something will turn up for me. But there's one thing I'm sorry for."
"What's that?"
"I would like to get some sort of an education; I don't know much."
"Can you read?"
"A little, and write a little. I mostly picked it up myself."
The young man whistled.
"Have you any place to sleep to-night?"
"I've hired an attic room for a week."
"What do you pay?"
"A dollar a week."
"Of course, it's a poor room?"
"Yes; but it's all I can expect, and better than I often have. Why, I've slept in barns and under haystacks plenty of times."
"What is your name?"
"Tony Rugg."
"Well, Tony, you must come and stop with me to-night."
"With you?"
"Yes; at the St. Nicholas Hotel. You can help me get there, and share my room."
Tony hesitated.
"Do you mean it?" he asked.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because you're a gentleman, and I—do you know what they call me?"
"What?"
"Tony, the Tramp."
"It is your misfortune and not your fault. I repeat my invitation—will you come?"
"I will," answered Tony.
He saw that the young man was in earnest, and he no longer persisted in his refusal.
"To-morrow morning I will talk with you further about your affairs. I want to do something for you."
"You are very kind."
"I ought to be. Haven't you saved my life? But there is the hotel."
Tony and his new friend entered the great hotel. It was brilliantly lighted, though it was now nearly midnight.
Mr. Spencer went up to the desk.
"My key," he said; "No. 169."
"Here it is, sir."
"This young man will share my room; I will enter his name."
The clerk looked at Tony in surprise. He looked rather shabby for a guest of the great caravansery.
"Has he luggage?" asked the clerk.
"None to-night; I will pay his bill."
"All right, sir."
They got into the elevator, and presently came to a stop. Mr. Spencer opened the door of 169.
It was a good-sized and handsomely furnished chamber, containing two beds.
"You will sleep in that bed, Tony," said Spencer. "I feel dead tired. Will you help me off with my coat?"
Scarcely was the young man in bed than he fell asleep. Tony lay awake some time, thinking of his strange adventure.
"It's the first time in my life," he said to himself, "when I've had two beds—one here and the other at my lodgings. What would Rudolph say if he knew I was stopping at a fashionable hotel, instead of being at the bottom of the well, where he threw me?"
When Tony woke up in the morning he looked about him with momentary bewilderment, wondering where he was.
George Spencer was already awake.
"How did you sleep, Tony?" he asked.
"First rate."
"It must be late. Please look at my watch and tell me what time it is."
"Half-past eight," said Tony, complying with his request. "Why, it's late."
"Not very. I didn't get up until ten yesterday. Well, what do you say to getting up and having some breakfast?"
"Am I to breakfast with you, Mr. Spencer?"
"To be sure you are, unless you have another engagement," added Spencer, jocosely.
"If I have it can wait," said Tony. "How much do they charge here for board, Mr. Spencer?"
"Four or five dollars a day. I really don't know exactly how much."
"Four or five dollars a day!" exclaimed Tony, opening his eyes in amazement. "How much I shall cost you!"
"I expect you will cost me a good deal, Tony,"said the young man. "Do you know, I have a great mind to adopt you!"
"Do you really mean it, Mr. Spencer?"
"Yes; why shouldn't I. I like what I have seen of you, and I have plenty of money."
"It must be a nice thing to have plenty of money," said Tony, thoughtfully.
"There is danger in it, too, Tony. I am ashamed to tell you how much I have spent in gambling and dissipation."
"I wouldn't do it, Mr. Spencer," said Tony, soberly.
"Capital advice, Tony. I am going to keep you with me for fear I might forget, that is, if you think you will like me well enough to stay."
"I am sure to like you, Mr. Spencer, but you may get tired of me."
"I'll let you know when I do, Tony. How much income do you think I have?"
"A thousand dollars!" guessed Tony, who considered that this would be a very large income.
Spencer laughed.
"It is over ten thousand," he said.
"Ten thousand!" exclaimed Tony. "How can you spend it all?"
"I did spend it all, last year, Tony, and got a thousand dollars in debt. I gambled, and most of it went that way. But I'll leave that off. I shall have you to take up my time, now."
"Did you know that man you played billiards with last night, Mr. Spencer?"
"I made his acquaintance in a gambling house, and I was well punished for keeping company with such a man."
Tony was now nearly dressed.
"You didn't get your clothing from a fashionable tailor, I should judge," said his new guardian.
"No," said Tony, "I haven't been to fashionable tailors much."
"After breakfast I must go with you and see you properly clothed. If you are to be my ward, I must have your appearance do me credit."
"How very kind you are to me, Mr. Spencer," said Tony, gratefully. "I don't know how to repay you."
"You've done something in that way already."
"It seems like a dream that a poor boy like me should be adopted by a rich gentleman."
"It is a dream you won't wake up from very soon. Now if you are ready we will go down to breakfast."
Tony hung back.
"Won't you be ashamed to have me seen with you in these clothes?" he asked.
"Not a bit. Besides you will soon be in better trim. Come along, Tony."
They went down together, and entered the breakfast room. A considerable number of persons were there. Several stared in surprise at Tony as he entered and took his seat. Our hero noticed it, and it made him nervous.
"Do you see how they look at me?" he said.
"Don't let it affect your appetite, Tony," said hisfriend. "When you appear among them again you will have no reason to feel ashamed."
A speech which Tony heard from a neighboring table did not serve to reassure him.
An over-dressed lady of fifty said to a tall, angular young lady, her daughter:
"Elvira, do you see that very common-looking boy at the next table?"
"Yes, ma."
"He looks low. He is not as well dressed as our servants. It is very strange they should let him eat at an aristocratic hotel like this."
"Isn't he with that gentleman, ma?"
"It looks like it. He maybe the gentleman's servant. I really think it an imposition to bring him here."
Mr. Spencer smiled.
"Don't mind it, Tony," he said. "I know those people by sight. They are parvenus. I suppose you don't understand the word. They are vulgar people who have become rich by a lucky speculation. They will change their tune presently. What will you have for breakfast?"
"There's such a lot of things," said Tony, "I don't know what to choose."
"You'll get used to that. I'll order breakfast for both."
The waiter appeared, and Mr. Spencer gave the order.
The waiter looked uncomfortable.
"Mr. Spencer," he said, "it's against the rules for you to bring your servant to the table with you."
"I have not done so," said Mr. Spencer, promptly. "This young gentleman is my ward."
"Oh, excuse me," said the waiter, confused.
"Has any one prompted you to speak to me about him?"
"Those ladies at the next table."
"Then those ladies owe an apology to my ward," said the young man, loud enough for the ladies to hear.
The shot told. The ladies looked confused and embarrassed, and Tony and his guardian quietly finished their breakfast.
There was another lady who noticed Tony, and this was Mrs. Harvey Middleton. She was to sail for England in the afternoon.
As Tony and Mr. Spencer were going out of the breakfast-room, they met her entering.
She started at the sight of Tony, and scanned his face eagerly.
"Who are you, boy?" she asked, quickly, laying her hand on his arm.
Tony was too surprised to answer, and Mr. Spencer answered for him.
"It is my ward, madame," he answered. "He has been roughing it in the country, which accounts for the state of his wardrobe."
"O, I beg pardon, sir," said Mrs. Middleton. "I thought his face looked familiar."
"You see, Tony, that your appearance attracts attention," said Mr. Spencer, laughing. "Now we'll go out, and I'll get you a fit-out."
They went to a well-known clothier's, and Mr. Spencer purchased two handsome suits for our hero, one of which he put on at once. At another place a plentiful supply of under-clothing was purchased. Next a hat and shoes were procured. Tony's hair was cut, he took a bath, and in a couple of hours he was transformed into a young gentleman of distinguished appearance.
"Really, Tony, I shouldn't have known you," said his friend.
"I shouldn't have known myself," said Tony. "I almost think it must be some other boy. Who'd think I was Tony, the Tramp, now?"
"You are not to be a tramp any longer. I have not yet formed my plans for you, but I shall soon. I suppose, Tony, your education has been neglected."
"I should think it had," answered Tony. "I'm as ignorant as a horse."
"Then you ought to learn something."
"I wish I could."
"You shall, but, as I said, I must arrange details later."
* * * * * * *
About this time Rudolph and Mrs. Middleton were conversing, preparatory to starting for the steamer.
"You are sure the boy is dead?" she said.
"Sure? I ought to be. Didn't I see him dead with my own eyes?"
"I saw a boy this morning who looked as I suppose the boy would have looked—of the same age, too."
"Where did you see him?"
"He was with a gentleman, coming out of the breakfast-room as I was entering it."
"It couldn't have been he," said Rudolph, positively. "Even if he were alive, he wouldn't be here. But he's dead, I tell you. There's no doubt of it."
"There are strange resemblances," said the lady. "But, of course, it couldn't have been the boy. Indeed, the gentleman with him told me that it was his ward."
Rudolph laughed.
"Tony wasn't likely to have a gentleman for a guardian," he said.
But Rudolph would have felt less easy in his mind if he had known that the boy whom he supposed dead at the bottom of a well was really in the hotel at that very moment.
"Now, Tony," said George Spencer, after dinner, "I want to tell you what plans I have formed for you and myself. I have got tired of hotel life, and want a home. I shall seek a couple of handsomely-furnished rooms up town, make it social and pleasant with books and pictures, and we will settle down and enjoy ourselves."
"I am afraid you will get tired of me, Mr. Spencer," said Tony, modestly. "I am too ignorant to be much company for you."
"Ignorance, like poverty, can be remedied," said the young man. "I shall obtain a private tutor for you, and expect you to spend some hours daily in learning." Tony's face brightened up.
"That is just what I would like," he said.
"You would like it better than going to school?"
"Yes, for at school I should be obliged to go into a class with much younger boys."
"While with a tutor you can go on as fast as you please."
"Yes, sir."
"To-night we both need a little recreation. Suppose we go to some place of amusement. Have you ever been to Barnum's?"
"Yes, sir, but I didn't take a reserved seat."
"I suppose not."
"I sat in the upper gallery."
"To-night you shall be fashionable. Have you a pair of kid gloves?"
"The last pair I had is worn out," said Tony, laughing.
"Then you must have another pair. We will get a pair on our way there."
It was already time to start.
At eight o'clock Tony found himself occupying an orchestra chair near the stage, his hands encased in a pair of gloves of faultless fit, and looking enough like a young patrician to pass muster among his fashionable neighbors.
"How does it seem, Tony?" asked Spencer, smiling.
"Tip-top," answered Tony: "but how queer kid gloves feel. I never had a pair on in my life before."
"There are the two ladies who found fault with your appearance at the breakfast table this morning."
"They are looking at me through an opera-glass."
"Wondering if you can be the same boy. I have no doubt they are puzzled to account for your transformation."
Mr. Spencer was right. The two ladies were at the same moment exchanging remarks about our hero.
"Goodness, Elvira! there is that boy that was at breakfast this morning at the hotel."
"The boy that was so shabbily dressed, mamma? Where?"
"Just to the left. He isn't shabby now. See how he is decked out. Who would have thought it?"
"It's queer, isn't it?"
"I think we must have been mistaken about him. He looks like a young gentleman now. But why should he have worn such clothes before?"
"I can't tell, I am sure."
"That's a nice-looking young man, Elvira. I wish he would take a fancy to you."
"La! mamma, how you talk," said Elvira, bridling and smiling.
"Depend upon it, Tony, those ladies will be polite to you if they get a chance," said Spencer, laughing.
"It makes a great deal of difference how a boy is dressed," said Tony.
"You are right, Tony. Remember you are fashionable now."
"There's a gentleman in front that I know," said Tony, suddenly.
"Where."
"The man with a partly bald head."
"How do you know him?"
"He was staying two or three days at the country hotel where I was stable boy."
"Do you think he would know you now?"
"May I see?"
"Yes, but don't let him find you out. It won't do in society to let it be known that you were ever a stable-boy."
"All right."
Tony leaned over, and addressing the gentleman, said:
"Would you be kind enough to lend me your programme a minute, sir?"
"Certainly," was the reply. Then, looking at Tony: "Your face looks very familiar. Where have I seen you before?"
"Perhaps at the St. Nicholas, sir," said Tony; "I am stopping there."
"No; I never go to the St. Nicholas. Bless me! You're the very image of a boy I have seen somewhere."
"Am I?" said Tony. "I hope he was good-looking?"
"He was; but he was not dressed like you. In fact—I remember now—he was employed as stable-boy in a country hotel."
"A stable boy!" exclaimed Tony, with comic horror. "I hope you don't think I am the boy."
"Of course not. But really the resemblance is striking."
"Mr. Spencer," said Tony, "this gentleman has met a stable boy who looks like me."
"I really beg your pardon," said the gentleman; "I meant no offense."
"My ward would not think of taking offense," said Mr. Spencer, courteously.
Tony smiled to himself; he had a strong sense of humor, and was much amused.
It is needless to say that he enjoyed the performance—all the more so from his luxurious seat and nearness to the stage.
"It's a good deal better than sitting in the gallery," he said, in a whisper to his companion.
"I should think so. I never sat up there, Tony."
"And I never sat anywhere else."
As they were leaving the house, they found themselves close to the ladies whom they had noticed at breakfast.
Elvira chanced to drop her handkerchief, probably intentionally.
Tony stooped and picked it up. Though he had led the life of a tramp, he had the instincts of a gentleman.
"Thank you, young gentleman," said Elvira. "You are very polite."
"Oh, don't mention it," said Tony.
"Really, Mamma, he is a born gentleman," said Elvira, later, to her mother. "How could we make such a mistake."
"His clothes were certainly very shabby, my dear."
"Very likely he had been out hunting or something. We must not judge so hastily next time."
The ladies were foiled in their intentions of cultivating the acquaintance of Tony and his guardian, as two days later they left the hotel, and installedthemselves in an elegant boarding-house on Madison avenue.
"Now," said Mr. Spencer, "we must go to work."
"I must," said Tony.
"And I too," said Spencer.
"What can you have to do?"
"I have received a proposal to invest a part of my money—only one-fourth—in a business down town, and shall accept. I don't need to increase my income, but I think I shall be less likely to yield to temptation if I have some fixed employment. I shall be so situated that I can do as much or as little as I please. As to yourself I have put an advertisement in a morning paper for a teacher, and expect some applicants this morning. I want you to choose for yourself."
"I am afraid I shan't be a very good judge of teachers. Shall I examine them to see if they know enough?"
"I think, from what you say of your ignorance, that any of them will know enough to teach you for the present. The main thing is to select one who knows how to teach, and whom you will like."
"I wish you were a teacher, Mr. Spencer."
"Why?"
"Because then I should have a teacher whom I liked."
"Thank you, Tony," said the young man, evidently gratified. "The liking is mutual. Ithink myself fortunate in having you for my companion."
"The luck is on my side, Mr. Spencer. What would I be but for you. I wouldn't be a tramp any more, for I am tired enough of that, but I should have to earn my living as a newsboy or a bootblack, and have no chance of getting an education."
So the relations between Tony and his new friend became daily more close, until Mr. Spencer came to regard him as a young brother, in whose progress he was warmly interested.
A tutor was selected, and Tony began to study. His ambition was roused. He realized for the first time how ignorant he was, and it is not too much to say that he learned in one month as much as most boys learn in three. He got rid of the uncouth words he had acquired in early life, and adapted his manners to the new position which he found himself occupying in society. Mr. Spencer, too, was benefited by his new friend. He gave up drink and dissipation, and contented himself with pleasures in which he could invite Tony to participate.
Meanwhile Mrs. Harvey Middleton and Rudolph had arrived in England, and we must leave our hero, for a time and join them.
When Mrs. Harvey Middleton reached England, she delayed but a day in London to attend to necessary business. This business was solely connected with her mission to America. Rudolph Rugg accompanied her to the chambers of a well-known lawyer, and testified to having had the charge of Tony, closing with the description of his death. Of course nothing was said of the well, or about his having thrown him in, for Rudolph was not a fool. The details of a probable story had been got up by Mrs. Middleton and Rugg in concert. According to them and the written testimony, Tony had been run over by a train on the Erie railway, and a newspaper paragraph describing such an accident to an unknown boy was produced in corroboration.
It was an ingenious fabrication, and Mrs. Middleton plumed herself upon it.
"Poor boy!" she said, with a hypocritical sigh, "his was a sad fate."
"It was, indeed," said the lawyer; "but," he added, dryly, "you have no cause to regret it, since it secures the estate."
"Don't mention it, Mr. Brief. It is sad to profit by such a tragedy."
"You don't take a business view of it, madame. Such things happen, and if we can't prevent them, we may as well profit by them."
"Of course I will not refuse what has fallen in my way," said Mrs. Middleton; "but I had formed the plan, if I found the boy alive, of bringing him home and educating him for his position. He would not have let me want."
"Don't she do it well, though?" thought Rudolph, who heard all this with a cynical admiration for the ex-governess. "If I was a gentleman, I'd make up to her, and make her Mrs. Rugg if she'd say the word."
"You think this man's evidence will substantiate my claim to the estate?" she asked, after a pause.
"I should say there was no doubt on that point, unless, of course, his evidence is impeached or contradicted."
"That is hardly likely, Mr. Brief. The poor man suffered much at the death of the boy, to whom he was ardently attached."
"So you loved the boy, Mr. Rugg?" said the lawyer.
"Oh, uncommon," said Rudolph. "He was my pet, and the apple of my eye. We was always together, Tony and I."
"And I suppose he loved you."
"He couldn't bear me out of his sight; he looked upon me as a father, sir."
"If he'd come into the estate, he would probablyhave provided for you," suggested the lawyer, watching him keenly.
"It's likely, sir. I wish he had."
"So it's a personal loss to you—the death of the boy."
"Yes, sir."
"Mrs. Middleton probably will not forget your services to the boy."
"No, sir. I shall, of course, do something for Mr. Rugg, though not as much, perhaps, as my poor cousin would have done. Mr. Rugg, will you see me to my carriage?"
"Certainly, ma'am."
Mrs. Middleton was anxious to go away. The conversation had taken a turn which she did not like. It almost seemed as if the lawyer was trying to find out something, and she thought it best to get Rudolph away from the influence, lest Mr. Brief should catechise him, and draw out something to her disadvantage.
"Mr. Rugg," she said, as they were going down stairs, "I advise you not to go near Mr. Brief again."
"Why not, ma'am?"
"These lawyers are crafty. Before you knew what he was after, he would extract the secret from you, and there would be trouble for both of us."
"Do you think so, ma'am? I didn't see nothing of it?"
"I think he suspects something. That matters nothing if it does not go beyond suspicion. Unlesshe can impeach your testimony and draw you into contradictions, we are safe, and you are sure of an income for life."
"You needn't be afraid for me, ma'am. We are in the same boat."
She frowned a little at the familiar tone in which he spoke. It was as if he put himself on an equality with her. But it was true, nevertheless, and it was unpleasant for her to think of.
Was there nothing else that was unpleasant? Did she not think of the poor boy who, as she thought, was killed, and at her instigation? Yes, she thought often of him, but as much as she could she kept the subject away from her thoughts.
"He's better off," she said to herself. "He didn't know anything of the property, and he wasn't fit to possess it. All the troubles of life are over for him."
"What are your plans, Mr. Rugg?" she asked.
"I have a mind to go down to Middleton Hall with you, ma'am. I used to live there years ago, and I might find some of my old cronies."
"For that very reason you must not go," she said, hastily. "They would be asking you all sorts of questions, and you'd be letting out something."
"They wouldn't get nothing out of me."
"If you made no answer it would be as bad. They would suspect you."
"And you, too."
"Precisely."
"It's rather hard, Mrs. Middleton, I can't see my old friends."
"You can make new ones. A man with money can always find friends."
"That's true, ma'am," said Rudolph, brightening up. "Then you'd recommend me to stay in London?"
"In London, or anywhere else that you like better. Only don't come within twenty miles of Middleton Hall."
"Well, ma'am, you're wiser than I am, and you know better what it's best to do."
"Of course I do. You are safe in being guided by me."
"But about the money, ma'am. How am I to get that if I don't see you?"
"Once a quarter I will pay in forty pounds to your account at any bank you choose. You can let me know."
"All right, ma'am. It's strange to me to think of having a bank account."
"It need not be strange henceforth. And now, Mr. Rugg, we must part. I must hasten down to Middleton Hall to look after the estate. I have been absent from it now for nearly three months."
"I suppose you are in a hurry to see your young man," said Rudolph, with a grin.
"Mr. Rugg," said the lady, haughtily, "I beg you will make no reference to my private affairs. You speak as if I were a nursery maid."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am. No offense was meant."
"Then none is taken. But remember my caution."
She stepped into the hansom which was waiting for her, and Rudolph remained standing on the sidewalk.
"She's puttin' on airs," said the tramp, frowning. "She forgets all about her bein' a governess once, without five pounds in the world. She acts as if she were a lady born. I don't like it. She may try her airs on others, but not on Rudolph Rugg. He knows a little too much about Mrs. Harvey Middleton. Rich as you are, you're in his power, and if he was so inclined he could bring you down from your high place, so he could."
But Rudolph's anger was only transient. He was too astute not to understand clearly that he could not harm Mrs. Middleton without harming himself quite as much. As things stood, he was securely provided for. No more tramping about the country for him in all weathers. He had enough to lodge and feed him, and provide all the beer and tobacco he could use. This was certainly a comfortable reflection. So he sought out a comfortable lodging and installed himself before night, determined to get what enjoyment he could out of London and the income he had so foully won.
And Mrs. Middleton, she, too, congratulated herself.
She leaned back in the cab and gave herself up tojoyful anticipations of future happiness and security.
"Thank Heaven, I have got rid of that low fellow," she ejaculated, inwardly. "I never want to see the brute again. He was necessary to my purpose, and I employed him, but I should be glad if he would get drowned, or be run over, or end his miserable life in some way, so that I might never see or hear of him again."
But the thought of Rudolph did not long trouble her. She thought rather of the handsome Captain Lovell, whom she loved, and to marry whom she had committed this crime, and the hard woman's face softened, and a smile crept over it.
"I shall soon see him, my Gregory," she murmured. "He will soon be mine, and I shall be repaid for my long, wearisome journey."